And Then I Met You
by YourEyesAreFullofHate41
Summary: It started off as a joke, but then Bill Guarnere began to rely on Kate's letters as the war progressed.
1. Introduction

**I do not own anything of BoB, only my OC Katherine McNeil. This is based on the characters of BoB, and not the real men of Easy. I mean them no disrespect, or to their families.**

 **OK I lied about not writing another BoB fic. I can't help it. :) This is a little fluffier and much shorter than my other stories. It started off as a OS, but I felt it was better when separated by chapters. I wrote it awhile ago, and hated it. After taking another look and editing it, it has come together. I hope you enjoy it all the same. :) For anyone following me, I apologize for the multiple chapter alerts at once. I am posting half now and half another day.**

 **Thank you to arielenicole for asking for a Guarnere piece - you honestly reminded me that I had this one buried somewhere! And a Liebgott story on its way, and that will be longer ;)**

* * *

 _November 1945_

 _New York, New York_

"Jesus, Bill. It ain't that bad," muttered Toye. With a wince, he slipped on his temporary artificial leg. He and Guarnere were supposed to be completing rehabilitation training with several until each found the best one for them. "The pinching goes away after a drink or two."

Guarnere snorted. "Gain a leg, lose a liver, you mean."

"Quit bitchin' and saddle up. If Nurse Vicky finds you still in bed, there's going to be hell to pay. I'd easily bet on her against Sobel in a shouting match."

Guarnere rolled his eyes, but sat up, grumbling to himself. He knew what Toye said was true - the nurse was a force to be reckoned with.

Both men turned abruptly to a new voice at the door. "I wonder how your Sobel would do up against someone like me."

Their eyes widened to the woman leaning against the frame, arms crossed, and a slight smile on her lips. As Toye grinned, Guarnere's face hardened. Her eyes were locked on his. Her voice still held an edge, but it softened slightly. "Hi, Bill."

Guarnere's lip curled and he tried to hold back the snarl, but his stomach bubbled angrily. "What the hell are you doing here, Kate?"


	2. What Could It Hurt

_March 1944_

 _Aldbourne, England_

"All right, listen up," called Lieutenant Lewis Nixon. "The USO has developed a new program."

"Topless dancing girls?" asked Joe Liebgott, grinning around a cigarette in his mouth. The men around him chuckled.

Nixon grinned, looking back at the paper in his hand. "A more innocent form of entertainment, unfortunately." The soldiers groaned. "Kind of a take on a 'Dear John' letter. Women back at home write letters to soldiers, keep us in touch with what's going on in the States."

Joe Toye snickered. "Do they include topless photos?"

Nixon rolled his eyes but grinned again. "Wouldn't count on it, Joe."

"I'm out." His friends chuckled, nodding in agreement.

Nixon sighed, shaking his head. "Well those who may be interested, you've already been assigned a letter. If you choose to reply, that's up to you. Just keep in mind a few words from a nice woman may be the thing that keeps you going in this war." The men were silent. Nixon looked around at them. "That'll be all."

Easy company disbursed, chairs squeaking against the wooden floor. Toye and his close friend Bill Guarnere starting walking out of the room.

Toye sucked on his teeth and snorted. "What's Nixon playing at? Writing to some broad I've never met?"

Guarnere nodded, smirking. "Probably some old maid looking for a husband."

Frank Perconte jogged up to meet them. "I don't know, guys. This girl back at home was going to do it. And she was smokin'."

Guarnere and Toye stopped, looking at each other. Shrugging, they answered together.

"All right, can't see the harm."

"Nixon's right, might be nice."

They made their way to the post office, surprised to see a line out the door.

"Jesus Christ," muttered Guarnere. "Bunch of desperate losers here." Despite his words, he stayed in line until he received his first letter.

Later in his bunk, Guarnere opened it.

* * *

 _February 2, 1944_

 _Dear soldier,_

 _My first thought in writing this is that my salutation sounds so incredibly formal and ridiculous. But what else am I supposed to call you, I wonder. As enticement to respond to this letter, I shall make up a name for you if you don't provide one. Be prepared it could be something heinous, such as Cornelius. If Cornelius is your name, I understand if you don't respond. And I apologize._

 _Honestly, I'm not sure what to write. My friend Martha persuaded me to join the program. Something to pass the time, I guess. She told me to write as if I'm writing to my brother. Johnny told me he likes it when I'd write about the most trivial things, so, if you don't mind, here's something trivial for you._

 _There's this cat in my neighborhood. This ugly, squash-faced, grey cat with angry eyes and a scowl. I've always hated this cat. I call him Mr. Grouch. I am very aware my creative skills weren't up to my usual standards when I came up with it, but the name stuck. And if you saw this cat, I think you'd quite agree._

 _Anyway, Mr. Grouch always snuck into my backyard. It's a tiny thing, can't really be called a yard at all. More like a fenced in patio. The city doesn't allow for much space. But in he would come, as if it was a feline paradise, all to himself. I'd chase him away with a broom, but he'd always return._

 _Today, he didn't show his ugly face. At first I was pleased. I had finally won. But then the funniest thing happened. I started worrying for him. I was worried if he was hurt or hit by a car or frozen under the snow. It's now well into the night, and I am still thinking about this cat._

 _If you respond to this letter, I'd appreciate an equally ridiculous story. It could somehow save my dignity knowing someone else was out there with something idiotic to tell._

 _Soldier - sorry -_ _Cornelius, stay safe._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Katherine (Kate) McNeil_

* * *

Guarnere lowered the letter, his eyes pensive. The moonlight was fading fast, but he reread it again, grinning to himself.

"What's with the smile, Bill?" asked Perconte.

Guarnere didn't look up from the letter. "Hey, Frank, think the post office has paper and pen?"

* * *

 _November 1945_

 _New York, New York_

"I asked you what the hell you were doing here, Kate," Guarnere growled. He counted his blessings that a thick stack of blankets were covering his lack of right leg.

Kate ignored him for the moment as she swept into the room, her brown hair shining in the sunlight coming from the window. She held out a hand to Toye. "I guess we shouldn't wait for an introduction. I'm..."

"Kate," Toye finished, a smile pricking at the corner of his lips. He shook her hand and leaned against the edge of the bed, artificial leg out proudly. "Yeah, I know. You're even prettier than your photos."

She blushed, and they could both hear Guarnere's teeth grind nearby. "You're sweet-"

He cut her off again. "Joe. Toye."

Kate gave him a small smile. "Yeah, I know," she repeated back to him. "Some of Bill's photos had you in them as well. It's nice to meet you, Joe."

"Back at ya, Kate. Thanks for visiting us."

Guarnere couldn't help it anymore. "How the hell did you even find me?"

Kate turned to him, her glance cool. Toye had to bite his lip, impressed that she didn't cower from Guarnere's best scowl. "My latest returned letter wasn't from England, but New York. After a little nagging on my part, I got an address. I'm now officially disallowed from any military base in the continental United States." She turned back to Toye, but before she could open her mouth, Guarnere interrupted.

"Get outta here." His tone held no opportunity for argument, and Kate was livid with herself when she felt tears prick her eyes.

She tried to hide it with a deep breath and a smile to Toye. "Just as well, I need to get going."

"Thank Jesus." She flinched at his words.

Toye gave her a smile back, trying to get her to ignore the angry man beside them. She brightened slightly seeing it. "Can I visit you tomorrow?"

"Hell no."

"Yes. _We'd_ love to see you, Kate."

Her smile to Toye widened. "Then until tomorrow." She turned to leave, but stopped at the end of Guarnere's bed. He refused to meet her eyes. His jaw was clenched as it stuck together with glue. With sigh, she was gone.

Guarnere had to take several breaths before he trusted himself to speak to Toye. "What the fuck, Joe," he breathed.

Toye shrugged. "I like her."

"Goddamn useless friend."


	3. Don't Look

_May 7, 1944_

 _Aldbourne, England_

"Hey, that's my knife!" cried Liebgott.

Guarnere used the blade to cut open his mail before tossing it back at Liebgott's feet. "Quit cryin', Joe. I ain't takin' it, just burrowin' it, you dog."

He tossed through his letters, finally finding what he was looking for. Toye looked at him. "Never saw you so eager to receive your ma's mail before, Bill."

Guarnere smirked. "It ain't my ma's letter, Joe. It's from your ma. Her usual love letter to me." Toye threw his boot at his head but missed.

He cackled before opening the letter.

* * *

 _April 15, 1944_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _You wouldn't believe my relief when I saw your signature. I would be forever embarrassed if your name was Cornelius. Not for my slip of tongue, of course, but for your poor, unfortunate soul having to live with a name like that._

 _Mr. Grouch hasn't returned yet, I'm sorry to say. Thanks for the tips, but he may be gone forever. It's been rather lonesome without his scowling mug._

 _You know, before I even read the part about where you're from, I felt a certain edge to your tone. I can completely picture South Philly. Harsh accent and all. Now you may chastise me since being from Boston - also known as the best city in the country - we tend to also have harsh accents, but bear with me. I can make my Bostonian growl charming if given the opportunity. Unless it's baseball season. I can't be held responsible for any foul language during six months of the year._

 _I am very impressed to find that you're a paratrooper. You fellas have been all over the news back here. To jump out of a perfectly good plane - God bless you. You must be fearless. I can't even imagine the feeling of jumping without harness or wings. You'll have to tell me all about it when you've landed safely._

 _Your friend Joe sounds like a real character. I'm sure he would say the same to you if given the chance. How do I know, you may say? Truthfully, it is just a guess, but I hope you are. I've met so many men that take themselves so seriously. Do you know what I mean? It's okay to joke and laugh at yourself._

 _I went on a date recently with someone Martha knew. She promised me that he was everything - handsome, wealthy, strong, you name it. But do you know two things he lacked? Humor and sincerity. I am not saying I am anything special. I am far from it. But to lack the ability to laugh? To speak plainly and with compassion? Needless to say, there won't be a second date._

 _Bill, I'd just like to add that I am very happy my friend suggested joining the USO letter program. Selfishly, your one response made my day. I had to write again immediately. I do you hope that you receive something in return when reading my drabble._

 _Stay safe._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Kate_

* * *

 _November 1945_

 _New York, New York_

Guarnere's eyes narrowed as he watched Kate and Toye laugh together in the common room. He had tried to ignore them, even tried to escape to the quiet of his room, but Nurse Vicky rolled him in, muttering about a punishment for being so goddamn stubborn. _You hit the nail on the head, lady_.

He looked out the window and into the city below. It was quiet today. He could feel the cold seeping through the glass.

He heard before he saw her in the corner of his eye, standing in front of him. She sat down silently in the chair across from him. He tried not to breathe in her sweet perfume, but his eyes closed as it infiltrated his brain. Her scent was exactly what he always imagined it to be, only better.

"Joe was just telling me about the time you stole some alcohol from an officer in Bastogne," she murmured, trying to keep her voice light. "Said it was the only thing that could warm either of you, but it was hell to pay when - was it Nixon? - found out."

He remained silent, refusing to look at her.

Kate sighed, but continued, looking down at her hands. "Hope it was at least something good. Martha forced cheap champagne on me at New Years. I haven't been able to touch the stuff since..."

"Kate?"

She looked up to see his eyes on hers. Hope fluttered inside her when she heard the softness of his voice. "Yes?"

Guarnere studied her face, raking in everything before he said quietly, "Get out."

It felt like a punch to the gut all over again. She cursed herself for her weakness when she felt it. She stood up. "I'll be back."

"Don't bother."

* * *

Toye looked over at Guarnere in the bed next to his. His friend was silent all day, furious with him. To his back, he said conversationally, "Kate said she had to get back up to Boston, but that she'd be back next weekend."

Guarnere ignored him.

Rolling his eyes to himself, he wasn't going to allow his bud to continue this forever. Plus, he was bored senseless. "She's a riot. We both know that Philadelphia is the best damn city in the States, but, damn, she puts up helluva argument for Beantown."

Guarnere only snorted, but this at least indicated to Toye that he was awake and listening.

With a smirk, he continued. "I'm tellin' ya, Bill. Those photos don't do her justice. When she smiles at ya, I swear to God, angels were singin', brother. That also could be because we have only seen Nurse Vicky for the last several weeks, but, hey, I'll take what I can..."

"Shut the fuck up, Joe. Jesus!"

Toye's smirk grew. "You can't tell me that you think she isn't a looker? You've been smitten with her since..."

Guarnere rolled on his other side to face the man, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I said, shut the fuck up!"

Toye held up both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll stop talking about her."

"Christ, thank you."

There was a long stretch of silence, until Toye couldn't help but needle him again. "That ass though."

"I swear to God, Joe. I'll take your other leg, don't tempt me."


	4. A Surprise Comfort

_June 4, 1944_

 _Upottery, England_

"Martin! Sergeant Martin!" screamed a private, delivering mail to the men packing their chutes. They were due to jump in Normandy that night.

Toye sat cursing his pack, trying to figure out how to fit everything. "Where you keepin' your brass knuckles?" cracked Perconte.

Toye sighed. "I could use me some brass knuckles." The mail soldier walked by. "Hey Vest, anything for me?"

"Nope," replied Allen Vest. "Guarnere! Guarnere!"

"Right here, Vest," yelled Guarnere, sitting and spooning ice cream into his mouth. Vest handed over a single letter. Guarnere immediately recognized the handwriting. He tucked it into his pocket for later when he had some privacy.

Another private came up, shoving a piece of paper at each of them. "From Colonel Sink."

George Luz, Easy company jokester and professional voice imitator, took it to read aloud. In his best Sink voice, he began. "Soldiers of the regiment. Tonight is the night of nights." He lowered his voice to normal, taking in the serious tone. "Today as you read this, you're enroute to the great adventure that you've trained for over two years."

Guarnere scowled. "That's why they gave us ice cream." Just then their commanding officer, Lieutenant Meehan, stood on a jeep to announce that the jump has been postponed. No jump tonight.

Toye held out a hand to his friend, helping him hoist to his feet. "Fucking ridiculous."

Guarnere nodded but shrugged. "Maybe we'll get ice cream tomorrow too."

Toye peered at him, incredulous. "Strike that. You're fucking ridiculous." Guarnere grinned, removing his jacket before gathering his stuff.

Later, Easy company gathered into the auditorium to watch a movie. Bored, Guarnere pulled out his letter from his pocket, but found a second one, addressed to Johnny Martin. Curious, he opened it.

Only a few words stood out to him. " _...Bill Guarnere's older brother Edward was killed at Monte Cassino. Bill doesn't know…"_

Guarnere felt his heart stop and then thud hard in his ears. It was as if he'd lost the ability to hear and think beyond his own heartbeats. Quickly, he stood, rushing from the theater.

Leaning a hand against the wall, Guarnere tried to catch his breath. His vision blurred. He was pretty sure his stomach had fallen away. The only real thing was the letter in his hand, announcing his brother's death. His eyes traveled to the paper, ready to tear it to bits, when he noticed the other letter in hand.

With his back on the wall, he slid to the floor, opening it.

* * *

 _May 19, 1944_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _We have just become friends. I don't want this to end so quickly. But if you mention again how the Phillies will kick the Sox ass again, I promise never to speak to you again._

 _Okay, you saw through that lie, didn't you? And sorry for the curse. It is baseball season after_ _all._

 _To be honest, the Sox were recently swept by your god awful excuse for a team. It pains me to write that, but it's something for you to hold onto when we win the pennant this year. One must always have hope, don't you think?_

 _You mentioned that you're a sergeant. Does this include telling people what to do? Lord, how I would hate that. (Being told what to do, not the telling others to do my will.) My mother calls me stubborn, but I continually maintain that I only know what I want. Is that stubborn? Probably._

 _I hate to admit it, but I was physically rolling on the floor laughing when I read your story about Frank and the barmaid. Poor Frank! I'd be surprised if he ever asked a woman out again. You must be easy on him, but somehow I know you won't. But thank you again for the story. You are correct, sir. You are funny._

 _As your reward - or punishment depending on the point of view - enclosed is your requested photo of yours truly. It took me ages trying to find something that wasn't completely ludicrous. I settled on something only somewhat stupid. It was taken at the lake this past summer. It stood out to me because it was as close to flying as I have ever been. It's definitely not jumping from a plane, but it's a start for this simple girl._

 _I know that you can't say much of anything about what you're doing. But I do hope you are safe. If it's true what you said and that your fellow soldiers call you 'Wild Bill,' do me a favor and try being a little less wild when you do land into enemy territory. I've come to find myself relying on you, trooper. Don't let me down._

 _Stay safe._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Kate_

* * *

Guarnere read and reread it several times. His heart finally began to slow and he could feel his limbs again. He looked to the photo to see a pretty brunette young woman, swinging from a rope, about to jump into the water below. He studied her bright eyes and big smile.

Forgetting the news of his brother for a moment, he smiled softly.

* * *

 _Thanksgiving weekend 1945_

 _New York, New York_

Guarnere's fingers trailed over the worn photograph. The edges were cracked and bent, but the image of Kate on that rope swing was still prominent. With a sigh, he tucked it into the pocket of his shirt, where he had kept it since Compton returned it to him in England, and turned back to the window. His leg ached, but he knew Nurse Vicky would be by soon with the prosthetic. He'd been dodging her for the past few weeks.

His mother had known something was wrong when she and his family came to visit for Thanksgiving yesterday. As usual, she brought heaps of homemade food, enough to share with all the wounded soldiers on his floor. Usually she and Toye's mother traded visits, but seeing as it was a holiday, both families stopped up to the city to see their soldiers.

His stomach growled. He didn't partake in the festivities much, but ate only after his mother stared at him, fear in her eyes, for long enough. He sighed again, hating what he was doing to her, but he didn't know how to stop. Now he wished that he wasn't so generous in sharing his treats - he was starving.

Toye limped over to him, the newest test trial of this leg seemed promising. He only winced a bit. He held out a slice of pie. "Here. Blueberry is your favorite, right?"

Guarnere looked up from his wheelchair and gave him friend a grin. He took the dessert and began eating it immediately. It was delicious. "Thanks, buddy. It is. How did you know?" He polished it off in record time.

"You mentioned it once."

His head snapped up to see Kate standing next to Toye. He tried not to notice how pretty she looked in her simple wool dress. She attempted a smile. "Happy Thanksgiving, Bill."

Toye gave her a wink. "I forgot somethin' in my room." He limped away leaving them alone.

Kate dragged a chair over and sat down next to him, glancing at the empty plate in his hands. "Glad you liked the pie. It's absolutely the only thing I can bake, so it's lucky that it's your favorite."

Guarnere looked down at the plate as well. His fingers twiddled with the fork nervously. "It was good."

She laughed then, taking him aback. He caught himself before he smiled automatically at the sound. "Good enough for another slice? I hope so. The rest is by your bed."

He fought the smile again, instead focusing back on his anger. His eyes hardened. "What are you doin' here, Kate?"

Kate swallowed hard, and he could tell she had prepared herself this time for his harsh tone. His resolve broke a little at the thought. "I needed to see for myself that you were alive."

Guarnere blinked at that, unsure what to say, but his stubbornness won out again. "Well, here I am. You've seen it. You can go now."

She swallowed again, sucking on her teeth in thought as she looked out the window. "You know, when I received my first returned letter, I thought it was a mistake. I _hoped_ it was a mistake. And then I tried again and it happened again. And then I just kept writing to you, even though I knew I wouldn't get a response. Because you must be dead."

Flashes of Foy came back to him then. He thought he must have been dead too in that forest. The outcome was too surreal.

Kate cleared her throat, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. "I'm glad you're not dead, Bill," she whispered.

His anger came back all at once and doubled in size. He jut out his chin towards her, his jaw square. "Yeah? Well that makes one of us."


	5. Divulge

_August 23, 1944_

 _Aldbourne, England_

"Bill, you coming? Chow hour is on my friend," said Toye, walking from the bunk area.

Guarnere nodded from his bed. "Be right there, buddy. Save me a seat." Toye watched Guarnere a moment as his friend opened another letter. Shaking his head, he left.

* * *

 _July 26, 1944_

 _Dear Bill_ ,

 _I am so relieved that you survived the jump of Normandy. What they showed in the newspapers, it just sounded horrific. Can I say again how thankful I am that you're alright?_

 _I'm also sorry about your brother. From what you described to me, he sounds like he was a fine man and an excellent big brother. I bet you both got into all sorts of trouble together, disrupting the streets of South Philadelphia._

 _I'm going to share something with you, and I know that you'll understand. Not only because you've suffered a loss, but because I trust you. Isn't that strange? We've never met and I trust you with every confidence. Even more so than Martha. Next I will be divulging my deepest desires and you'll run and flee. I'm only joking - please don't go._

 _Are you ready? I'm not sure I am, but here it is._

 _I lost my brother Johnny in Pearl Harbor. I wrote to him almost every day, even after I found out he'd been killed. I think that's why my friend wanted to me write to you instead. She didn't think it was healthy to speak to a dead man. I'm still not sure if I agree with her. Every now and then I'll write him again, but when I have nowhere to mail the letter, I burn it instead._

 _It's okay to flee. I know I must sound crazy. But I also know what it's like to lose a brother. And although my words will do nothing to appease your pain, I want you to know how very sorry I am for you. He cannot be replaced._

 _Changing gears (if you couldn't tell by the wrinkles on your letter, I am a bit weepy), your next missions sound dangerous. I know you must be brave and fearless and trained, but, please, be careful. What I've read about the Germans, it isn't pretty._

 _I'm happy to know that the two Joes find my rear end attractive. I knew I shouldn't have sent that ridiculous photo, but, alas, I did. Please be sure to smack them for me. I'm counting on you to uphold my honor as a lady._

 _And if you somehow can, (I'm not sure if there are any photographers available, maybe when you're on leave,) I'd love to have a photo of you in return. Truthfully, I am picturing you as Cary Grant. I hope that neither boosts your ego too much nor insults you, depending on your outlook of the actor. I find him rather handsome._

 _Stay safe._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Kate_

* * *

With a crooked smile, Guarnere lowered the letter. With her words about her brother, he felt the improbable bond between them strengthen. He knew he couldn't share this with any of the guys - they'd laugh in his face for admitting to a friendship with a woman he'd never met. But he couldn't stop the thrill every time he saw her handwriting on an envelope.

Putting off dinner for just another moment, he scrounged up some paper and began to write her back.

* * *

 _November 1945_

 _New York, New York_

"Jesus, it's good to see you, Bill," said Heffron, sitting down beside him in the common room. The other guys were playing around with Toye, wheeling him around the room in good fun. They had just arrived back from Europe.

Guarnere smirked before shaking his hand once again. "Good to see ya, too, Babe. I can't take much more of Joe. The positive attitude is killin' me."

Heffron chuckled and shook his head. "Joe Toye and a positive attitude? Now I know you shittin' me."

Guarnere shrugged. "Look at him. He gets his leg blown off and suddenly he's Walt Fuckin' Disney."

The pair watched Toye, and sure enough, the smile never left his face. Heffron whistled. "Think he met a broad or somethin'?"

At that comment, Guarnere's mood darkened and he didn't answer. Heffron noticed immediately. "What's with the look?"

It took him awhile to answer, but Guarnere finally gave in, needing to hear an opinion rather than from Toye. "Kate came to visit."

Heffron's eyes widened. "Your Kate?"

Guarnere snorted. "Quit sayin' it like that. But yeah, that Kate."

Heffron whistled again. "Bet she's pissed at you."

He turned to his friend, his jaw dropped. "How do you mean that? She came _here_. There ain't no invitation."

Heffron rolled his eyes. "Joe told me how you stopped writing to her suddenly. Didn't it occur to you that she'd probably thought you were dead?"

Guarnere clenched his teeth. _Fuckin' Joe._ "Yeah, well that was the idea." Before Heffron could sputter and question him, he added, "Better off that way."

Silence stretched for a long time before Heffron said quietly, "Better off for who?"

* * *

 _September 1944_

 _Nuenen, Holland_

Guarnere clapped Bull Randleman one more time on the back before pulling himself into the truck. "I don't know if I should salute ya, smack ya, or kiss ya," he said with a big grin.

Randleman grinned back. He had just returned after being MIA in their most recent battle. "Missed you too, Bill." He landed next to his friend on the bench. He chucked his chin towards the bag on the floor. "Just in time for a supply drop too, I see."

The men hurriedly opened the pack to find cigarettes, rations and letters from home. After swiping the newly lit cigarette from Luz's mouth, Guarnere took the stack of letters, flipping through them until he found the one he wanted.

Inside was another lengthy response from Kate, as well as a few more photographs.

Randleman peered over Guarnere's shoulder. "Who's the broad? She's pretty."

Guarnere smiled softly looking at the images. "Her name is Kate."

"She your girl?"

Guarnere sighed. "Nah, she ain't my girl. Never even met her."

Toye snorted. "You still writing to that USO woman? Christ, that's pathetic."

A replacement, Babe Heffron, looked at the photo. "Damn, I wish they'd get me a letter. She sure is pretty."

Guarnere glared at Toye and sneered. "What's pathetic is that you're jealous, Joe. Ain't my fault your lady was some grandma in the sticks."

Randleman chuckled, removing a thick package from the pack. "I heard you still writing to that old grandma, Joe." Toye muttered, cursing them.

Guarnere chuckled and nudged Randleman. "What's that, Bull?"

"Must be the photos before we jumped Normandy. Think there's one of us in front of the C-47. Yep, here it is."

Guarnere grinned at the sight. "Christ, look at those babies. Before they knew war." Randleman chuckled again, flipping through. "Hey Bull, mind if I take one of those? Looks like there are copies."

"No problem."

Guarnere took the photo of him, Toye, Randleman and Perconte in front of the plane, their jump packs on their backs and huge shit-eating grins on their faces. Grinning again to himself, he turned to his letter.

* * *

 _August 30, 1945_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _I believe you must be exaggerating. The Brits can't be that bad to work with. And as I now know that you are one for outrageous stories and sarcasm, I am hesitant to believe a word you say, my friend. Give them a chance. You are a generous man to befriend someone like me. I know you have it in you to extend it to others as well._

 _In any case, I hope your next jump is easier than Normandy. I'm thrilled that you've finally been given some leave time, but I feel for poor England. What trouble you and your boys must make when given free time. Add in some beer and I'm surprised I haven't heard stories of your behavior all the way back here. I can see it now – 'Rowdy Yank Paratroopers Cause Mayhem' or something equally alarming. In truth, I hope you are having a wonderful time. You deserve it, Bill._

 _Old men and kids, huh? Although it gives me some relief that your intelligence officers have revealed this information, it pains me to think that those Germans are using those poor souls as tools for their gain. I am torn, but my sentiment for you will always win out. You have quite grown on me._

 _I think you ought to know that you've been encouraging me back here at home. Your words to me have given me a bravery I did not know I had. Not only did I apply for a job in a local engineering firm (I've been holding back for months), but I took the next step in flying – well, at least my type of flying._

 _I visited the lake alone the other day. It was so hot that afternoon, the humidity hung low on everyone. There wasn't much else to do but lie about or swim. I had waited until late afternoon after everyone left for supper. You see, there is this giant rock face about twenty feet high on the edge of the water. The local boys would jump from it, trying to impress us girls. I had always thought them stupid and proud. I never saw the appeal in them or jumping to their potential deaths._

 _But then I met (for lack of a better term) you. And I know you continue to tell me that you're not a hero, that you're not brave, just a soldier surrounded by a company of heroes, but hear me out. To me, you are something. I know I have low moments and your words help me along the way. Please listen to me when I say that you mean something._

 _On a lighter note, here are a few more photos. I made sure not to include any of my ass this time (my apologies to the Joes). One is of me and my brother, Johnny, when we were young. I wanted to show you something of my neighborhood. You know, Boston, the better city of our two. I would add in here that I'm only joking, but I'm not._

 _The other, as you requested, is one when I let go a little. It was before Johnny was killed and Martha and I had far too much to drink. As you can see, I was attempting to dance. Luckily, the still photo only captured a moment of my embarrassment. I did have a wonderful time that night._

 _Still waiting on that photo, trooper. I've seen images of soldiers in the papers here. I request your next mission is to find and apprehend a photographer for my own personal gain. I think your commanding officer will agree._

 _Stay safe, Bill._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Kate_


	6. Sharing is Caring

_October 1944_

 _Nijmegen, Netherlands_

"Germans! In the crossroads!" gasped Liebgott, as he helped drag a bloody Alley in the barn.

Guarnere dropped the letters he was reading as Captain Winters rounded up the men.

* * *

 _September 23, 1944_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _Or should I say, Dear Handsome?_

 _If the compliment falls flat, please forgive me. My combination of humor and praise has repeatedly failed me in the past. I guess most people don't understand my attempt at light conversation. I hope you do. I think you do._

 _Thank you so much for the photograph. I wager you won't believe me when I tell you that I knew which one was you instantly. It was rather obvious. The tall burly one chewing on the cigar!_

 _I'm jesting. There's that terrible attempt at humor again. Honestly, I knew it was you on the left. Your name and letters painted me a picture long ago. Your face absolutely confirms my suspicions._

 _Besides the giant in the middle (to be fair, he looks to be a friendly sort of beast), I am wagering a guess that the other two are the Joes. They look like the rascals you described. Or maybe your new friend, Babe? Honestly, is that his real name? I feel like his only choice for a future bride would need to be a Kitty or a Frenchy. Maybe I'm mistaken. Maybe I should set him up with Martha; her proper name camouflages her wild spunk._

 _But yes, you are definitely a Bill. Do you ever go by William? Are you named after anyone? I'm not sure if Katherine suits me. I was named after my grandmother, who most definitely gave the name some regal meaning. She was a wonderful and lovely woman, whom I will never live up to._

 _I realize that I haven't provided any trivial drabble that you seem to enjoy (Lord knows why). You ask and you shall receive._

 _I know most people's careers aren't considered drabble, but nonetheless mine falls into the category swimmingly. As you know, I have applied for the job at the engineering firm. It's an excellent opportunity to do something besides collect mail at my current position. Unfortunately, I haven't heard back, and I'm beginning to think I didn't get it. The interview was a disaster, but I'll explain that more another time after my horror has abated. Right now, the drabble. Simple and concise, like my level of responsibility._

 _I fetch coffee. Yes, like a dog. Only dogs get treats. The end._

 _Maybe one day I'll do something more than visit the coffee pot or the mail room. Maybe someday I'll visit Europe and see the places you've described to me. Is that awful? I'm incredibly insensitive. You're there because of war, not on holiday._

 _Maybe one day you can show me when we can see a world without war._

 _Stay safe, handsome._

 _Yours,_

 _Kate_

* * *

Perconte picked up the piece of paper after returning from the crossroads. His mind was still full of what they witnessed. Images of Winters running alone towards the enemy seared in his mind. He still couldn't believe the man was alive.

Perconte started reading, smiling to himself before the letter was ripped from his hands.

Guarnere sneered. "That ain't yours, Frank."

Perconte shrugged, frowning. "I wasn't snooping. I meant to give it back to you right away, but…"

"But what? You started snooping?"

Perconte hung his head a bit. "Yeah, I guess. Sorry, Bill." He paused. "You're right, you know. She seems great."

Guarnere's face softened from his defensive scowl. "Yeah. I guess she is."

Perconte looked hopeful, peering at the letter in his friend's hands. "So…what's her trivial drabble?"

Guarnere snorted, but rolling his eyes. He handed the letter to Perconte. "I want it back."

As Perconte read the first letter eagerly, Guarnere pulled out her surprise second letter.

* * *

 _September 20, 1944_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _Just as I was about to postmark my previous letter, my neighbor upstairs knocked to say that I had a phone call in the foyer. Besides Martha and my mother, no one ever calls me, and Martha usually stops by in person._

 _Guess what, Bill? I got the job! I only just got off the phone with them this minute, but I had to scribble something to you right away. I don't want to hold up the other letter, but I had to tell you._

 _I hope this makes it to you quickly. I am eager for your response. I think I feel something like pride. I'm sure you're very familiar with the feeling._

 _Stay safe, handsome._

 _Yours,_

 _Kate_

* * *

Guarnere grinned to himself, as Perconte finished her other letter, smiling wide. He gave the paper back to Guarnere.

"I like her," said Perconte, chuckling. "Think she'll write to me, too?"

Guarnere moved to slap his friend on the head. "Get your own, Frank. And I ain't sharing no more if you're going to try and steal her away."

They walked out together, but separated soon, Guarnere dead set on finding more paper to write back that night.

* * *

 _December 1944_

 _Mourmelon-le-Grand, France_

"Welcome back, Bill," said Winters. Nixon and Harry Welsh were also sitting in the battalion commander's office when Guarnere walked in.

"Good to be back, sir," said Guarnere, limping up to shake the man's hand. "But I never thought I'd see you behind a desk."

"Some day he'll sit behind it," teased Nixon. He and Welsh smirked as Winters sighed. The paperwork on the desk was growing rapidly.

Winters' attention was diverted by the private that entered to gain a signature on something. Guarnere gestured to the door. "I'll just see myself out."

Winters nodded. "And Bill?" Guarnere turned back. "No more joy riding, OK?" Guarnere smirked, but nodded.

* * *

 _October 31, 1944_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _Forgive me if I sound like your mother right now._

 _What the hell were you thinking? Stealing a motorcycle from some Dutch farmer? And then getting shot in the leg? You're lucky you weren't killed!_

 _Okay, my rant is over. Maybe. But honestly, what the hell were you thinking? I know you said you had to watch the line of your men, but, Jesus, did you have to do it on a bike?_

 _November 1, 1944_

 _Dear Bill (again),_

 _I've calmed down some. I was going to throw away what I wrote yesterday, but I've determined that someone needs to scold you. I hope I'm not the only one._

 _Please be careful, Bill. I want you to continue to be open and honest with me, but I can't stand reading about you being wounded again._

 _Forgetting for a moment what I wrote above, did you really get hit in the ass as well? I hope one or both of the Joes gave you hell for that. I couldn't help but giggle myself. Maybe the Army will add an inscription to your purple heart medal – "for being shot in the ass while acting the fool." Okay, I'm done. I promise to be good._

 _I find it hard to believe that you don't have a girl waiting for you back home. Now before your ego grows to the size of Germany, hear me out. You wouldn't believe the lack of smart and funny men in this city. I'm sure Philadelphia can claim the same. I know that my sister insists that New York is no different._

 _You already know my plight in my lack of love life. No need to go in further details. I haven't attempted to tame myself for another date since that dud from months ago. I know that the pickings are slim and that you won't see a girl until you're on leave again, but how is the fairer sex in England and France? If you meet someone, you should tell her how you were wounded, and she can scold you for me in person._

 _The new job is going well, thanks for asking. I was terrified on my first day, but my boss is kind and patient. I am even being invited to project meetings. And I haven't served coffee once._

 _By the tone of your letters – besides that you're impatient to get back to your men – it sounds like you may be headed back out soon. I do hope you take my words with you. I am not the most religious person, but I do pray for you every day. For you to come home, safe, sound and whole._

 _Stay safe._

 _Yours,_

 _Kate_

* * *

 _December 1945_

 _New York, New York_

Guarnere's eyes skimmed the letter again. He never had the heart to throw them out. Her last sentence stood out, one word even more so than the rest.

" _For you to come home, safe, sound, and **whole**._"

After his eyes remained locked on it, he crumpled up the letter and angrily threw it across the room.


	7. Two Can Play

**As promised, here is the second half of this one-shot/non-one-shot. Thank you again to arielenicole for requesting the Guarnere fic and reminding me that I already wrote one, just unposted.**

 **And sorry to everyone who follows me or the story. I know it's a lot of alerts at once, but I really do prefer the text being separated by chapters. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _December 1944_

 _Bastogne, Belgium_

Huddled around a fire just outside the town of Bastogne, Guarnere finished pocketing the ammo from the soldiers that were retreating from the line. The battle line that Easy was about to secure and protect.

Absently, his bare fingers brushed the letter in the pocket over his heart, and he said a prayer.

* * *

 _November 23, 1944_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _I had to reread your letter a few times before I could digest that you managed to:_

 _1._ _Try and go AWOL from the hospital,  
_ _2._ _Got caught,  
_ _3._ _Got court martialed,  
_ _4._ _Demoted,  
_ _5._ _Sent back to the hospital,  
_ _6._ _All before going AWOL again._

 _And somehow in the end:_

 _1._ _Your court martial was dropped,  
_ _2._ _You didn't receive the demotion,  
_ _3._ _And you found your way back to Easy._

 _Does that sum it up nicely?_

 _I hope you see the level of insanity you must bestow. And I add only this – your poor mother. Eleven children, and she had to deal with your antics on top of it all._

 _Nevermind, I also add the following – and I know it's not proper, and also outside baseball season, but too damn bad – you are one lucky bastard, Bill._

 _Nonetheless, I am happy that you got what you wanted. If it was to be back with your guys, with the Joes and the Babes of this crazy war, I am pleased. Now please don't do it again. You're causing me to sound like my mother._

 _Oh! I almost forgot. Happy Thanksgiving. I know that you're in Europe, a terrible wasteland it must be to not celebrate the best holiday of the year, but I want you to know that every single person here has you and the others in their thoughts and prayers. We pray for your speedy return and that you will be back with us soon._

 _Wow, that sounded so generic and commercial. It must be the holiday season; it's rubbing off on me. I'm planning on going to New York to visit my sister and my parents in a few weeks. It's just Martha and I this Thanksgiving. I hope that you too have someone to celebrate with today. I know you must; you're back with your friends._

 _Although I'll be with my family this Christmas, I can't help but wish you were here to celebrate with me. The holidays with my folks are sweet, but they can be lonely. My sister and her husband have their children. My parents have one another. As I try and dream up who I would like best to be with during the supposed most magical time of the year, all I can think about are your letters._ _What you would want to do or what you'd say if I suggested a walk through Central Park in the snow._

 _What would you say, Bill? Would you take a walk with me? See if we could get into some mischief in a strange city? No? That's okay. Maybe another time._

 _Happy Thanksgiving, Bill, and please stay safe._

 _Yours,_

 _Kate_

* * *

 _Christmas Eve 1945_

 _New York, New York_

Kate was beginning to lose her temper, and she knew that wasn't good for anyone.

"You know what, Bill? Fuck you."

Guarnere's eyes flew to her from his place in his bed. Toye tried not to seem as if he was listening in from his bunk, but he relished that she was finally telling him off.

"What did you just say to me?"

Her eyes flashed angrily. "You heard me. Fuck you." She stepped closer to him slowly. "I've been here a dozen times and I haven't heard a dozen words back from you all together." She was dangerously close now. For added emphasis, she jabbed a finger into his chest. He looked at her, incredulous. Her eyeslashes were stuck together with unshed tears.

"I don't know why you suddenly hate me. Did I offend you in some way? Maybe one too many cracks about the Phillies? Is your goddamn ego bruised, Guarnere, because I have to say, it's not attractive."

Fuming, he let slip, "It's because you care."

Kate stopped short at that. Swallowing the remainder of her tears, she nodded. "That's right, I care," she said softly. "Even if you don't."

With that, she whipped from the room. "I'll see you tomorrow, Joe." And then she was gone.

Toye gave him a look. "Jesus Christ, Gonorrhea."

Guarnere snorted angrily. "When is she gonna get it?"

Toye shook his head and closed his eyes. "No, when are you gonna get it, Bill? She ain't going anywhere. You heard her. She's visiting her folks for the holidays and will be in town for the next few weeks." He opened his eyes again and turned to his friend. "But one day she ain't gonna be there no more. And it will be your fault."

At a loss for words, Guarnere turned away but he didn't sleep that night.

* * *

Kate almost ran into another woman heading into their hospital room.

"Oh!" she cried, holding out a hand to steady the older woman. "I am so sorry, ma'am. Are you alright?"

Guarnere's mother studied her a moment, seeing her red eyes. "Yes, dear. I'm fine." She paused. "Do you know the boys?"

Kate hesitated a moment and willed her voice not to crack. "No, ma'am," she said quietly. "I was just wishing the soldiers a Merry Christmas."

* * *

Marie Guarnere watched Kate hurry away before she walked into her son's room, arms laden with sweets. Instead of the cheerful smile he and Toye had come to expect from her visits, they instead saw the face of a livid woman.

She raised at eyebrow when her son looked at her. "William Joseph Guarnere. What did you do this time?"

"Come on, ma! Don't look at me like that!"

Toye smiled and rubbed his hands together gleefully as Marie erupted.

* * *

 _Christmas Eve 1944_

 _Bastogne, Belgium_

"What the fuck do they have to sing about?" grumbled Toye as he and Guarnere hunched in a foxhole together, watching the line. The enemy across the field was singing familiar caroles in German.

"Guess krauts celebrate Christmas too," murmured Guarnere, attempting to warm his hands by rubbing them against his chest. "Hope they are as cold as we are."

"Damn straight." Toye shuddered, his breath almost opaque in the night air. "Those supplies better get in here soon. I don't think I can live another night without a winter coat."

"Or smokes," added Guarnere.

"Or rations."

"Or letters."

At that, Toye was silent. He peered over to his friend. "You still writing to that girl?"

Guarnere sneered. "And if I am?"

Toye nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Not saying nothin' bad. I just see how much you look forward to them." Guarnere grunted, but was silent.

After a few minutes, Toye added, "Sorry I was a prick about them earlier. You're right, I guess I'm jealous."

Guarnere smirked. "Can you repeat that last part? When you said I was right?"

Toye smacked his friend in the chest. "Shut up, asshole."

* * *

 _December 20, 1944_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _I know you haven't been able to respond to my last letter, or, if you did, it hasn't arrived yet. I just wanted to write you a quick note that I took that walk in Central Park last evening. I arrived to my sister's home a few days ago. I think you'd like it – the park, not my sister's home. That place is a madhouse with all my nieces and nephews._

 _It's so much bigger than I ever thought possible. And to think, it's just a tiny speck of earth in this huge world. The grass and trees have long turned brown and dark, but you can smell snow in the air. You know what I mean. I can tell it's on its way. Maybe even tonight. If it does, I will go out again, and try and describe what I see._

 _Last night though, it was like a haunted hay ride. Have you ever done one of those? They're big in this town called Salem near me right around Halloween. There was this dense fog that skimmed the ground, and the trees made huge, dark shadows everywhere. My mother would be appalled if she knew I was walking there alone at night, but it was thrilling._

 _I walked for perhaps an hour, hardly seeing another living thing. I found ponds and hills and bridges. They all seemed to look the same. It's probably a small miracle that I made my way_ _back. But I found a sense of peace in that park that I hadn't felt in a long time. It was like a warm, comforting hand in mine, leading me towards safety. Strange, isn't it?_

 _I hope I hear from you soon. Maybe I'll even get lucky and you'll send another photograph. Can I ask for one for Christmas? Thanks Santa._

 _Stay safe, Saint Nick._

 _Yours,_

 _Kate_


	8. And Then There Was Silence

_January 1945_

 _Foy, Belgium_

Guarnere hunkered down next to Compton in a foxhole. His thumb grazed over the photo of Kate at the lake, still his favorite image she sent by far. Her carefree happiness as she jumped midair into the water made him smile every time. And smiling was becoming harder and harder to come by these days.

"Who's the girl, Bill?" murmured Compton, his eyes on the photograph.

Guarnere handed it to him. His friend could use a little happiness right now. "Kate," he simply said. He played with her most recent letter in his hands.

Compton nodded slowly, studying her face. "She's pretty. You're a lucky guy."

Guarnere smirked, trying to hide this strange sense of longing that had been plaguing him. "She ain't my girl. Just a friend."

"Better get on that then." Guarnere snorted, causing Compton to smile without humor. He pulled out his own photo and handed it to Guarnere.

"That's my girl."

Guarnere looked at the image of Compton and a beautiful woman, hugging, happy in a sunlit field. "Oh yeah? She's pretty too."

Compton nodded, agreeing, but eased his head back against the wall of the foxhole, his eyes dull. "She's leaving me."

Guarnere looked back at the photo and then to his friend again. "That right?" Compton nodded again. "I'm sorry to hear that, Buck."

Suddenly, they heard the whistle of a mortar coming. Nearby, Lipton screamed for everyone to find cover.

The ground around them erupted and shook, bomb after bomb landing across their camp. Guarnere pushed Compton's head down, trying to protect both of them. And then as soon as it arrived, the bombings stopped.

They sighed in relief at the silence, but then, close by, someone began moaning in pain.

Guarnere perked up, listening closely to the sound. "Is that Joe?" He didn't wait. He ran towards his friend, letter still gripped in his hand tightly, forgotten.

He found Toye on the ground, the snow red and sludgy. Toye's right leg was gone in the blast, but somehow, he was still awake.

"Jesus," murmured Guarnere, a moment before he grabbed Toye under his arms. He started to drag them slowly back towards the foxhole. More blasts exploded around them, causing his ears to ring.

"I gotta get up," croaked Toye.

Guarnere grunted with the effort. "I got you, Joe. I'm goin' to get you outta here. Hold on, buddy."

"I gotta get up. Gotta get my helmet."

"Too late for a helmet, bud. Work with me here. We've gotta get to the foxhole," Guarnere said, clenching his teeth. He could see Compton waving at them, shouting for them to hurry. He could see all this, but heard nothing but the blasts around him.

In the exact moment Compton stepped out of the foxhole to help him drag Toye to safety, a mortar struck close to their heels, blowing both Guarnere and Toye backward.

* * *

 _December 22, 1944_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _I was so relieved to receive your letter. To see that you dated it so long ago – I hope this is an error in the mail service and not that you're deep into enemy territory. You can continue to go on and on about how you like a bit of action and that this is what you're signed up for, but I remain steadfast in my request for your safety. You may think you're headstrong, but I believe you're met your match, trooper._

 _It's okay to take comfort in safety, Bill. You don't need to be a hero every day. Hell, I wish you wouldn't. Take a break and stop putting your neck on the line every time an opportunity presents itself. I know this might sound naïve, especially from one that isn't trained to fight in war, but take care, and please_

* * *

A spray of blood splashed across her handwriting on first page. The letter fell quietly from Guarnere's hand and into the snow, his unconscious body landing hard next to it.


	9. One Way Only

_January 29, 1945_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _I'm trying not to be concerned since I haven't heard from you in awhile, but it's getting hard to ignore the trepidation in my heart. The mail man is getting quite sick and tired of me. I followed him down the street today to his shock. If I was trained like you, I bet I could have threatened him a bit, but I only nagged. I'm not sure if he'll agree to my route anymore._

 _Winter seems to be coming to a close early this year. The small amount of snow we received has already begun to melt, causing everything to be muddy and wet. You'll be pleased to know I took a tumble in a slick spot the other day, completely covering my entire backside with dirt and grime. If the mail man saw me, I think even he would have taken pity on me._

 _Work is still going well. It keeps me busy, which is good, then I don't have time to worry about you. That task is reserved for at night when I know I should be sleeping._

 _Please write to me, Bill. Just so that I know you are safe. If you don't wish to speak with me anymore, if you're tired of our exchange, I understand. But please just send me a quick note that you're alive and well. Take pity on me – or at the very least my mail man._

 _Stay safe._

 _Yours,_

 _Kate_

* * *

 _March 1, 1945_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _Tell me you're safe._

 _Yours,_

 _Kate_

* * *

 _April 14, 1945_

 _Please._

 _Kate_

* * *

 _May 13, 1945_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _Today I received what could only be the second greatest thing to a letter from you – a forwarding address notification on your location._

 _When I read the words that you were transferred to an evacuation hospital in Somerset, please forgive me, I wept for joy. I don't know how badly wounded you are. I pray that it isn't serious and that you're not in too much pain. But you're alive, Bill. I had given up all hope._

 _It's taken me a few hours to be able to put pen to paper, but here I am. I've missed speaking with you so much, my friend. I cannot wait to hear from you. I wish I could send you anything and everything. Is that possible? Will they accept care packages now that you're off the line? Tell me what you want. Blueberry pie? It might be a tad squished, but no matter. It's done._

 _I'd tell you what has been happening here at home, but honestly it's a blur. Spring is here – obviously. Baseball is back, and, as usual, the Sox are terrible. You'll be pleased to know your Phillies are over .5000, but the season is young._

 _Just let me know that you're okay, Bill._

 _I'm so happy you're alive, handsome. Did I mention that?_

 _Yours,_

 _Kate_

* * *

 _August 1, 1945_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _Do I have to beg once again?_

 _Okay, you win. Please write. Tell me you're okay._

 _Kate_

* * *

 _August 20, 1945_

 _Somerset, England_

The nurse dropped a piece of mail by Toye's bed before placing one by Guarnere's as well. Toye sat up, getting ready for his next rehabilitation exercise and took his letter. In the corner of his eye, he watched his friend crumple his in a ball before throwing it by his feet.

Toye sighed before sliding into his wheelchair, his arms steadying him. "You can't keep ignoring her, Bill."

"Who the fuck asked you, Joe?"

Toye wheeled over to his friend before placing his hands in his lap. His injured leg itched, but he held back from scratching at the stump. He stretched his whole left leg lazily.

He watched his friend look out the window, angry at the world. "Because you've told me yourself that you think you met your match. And if she's even half as stubborn as you, she ain't going away anytime soon."

Guarnere sneered, but said nothing. Toye shrugged. "And if you miss PT again, Nurse Patricia is going to sniff you out. Now that is a stubborn woman. Frightening too."

Guarnere sneered again but sighed. He sat up to get ready for his therapy.

* * *

 _October 2, 1945_

 _Dear Bill,_

 _Guess what? Mr. Grouch reappeared. As if back from the dead. Like you. He says hi._

 _Kate_

* * *

 _October 12, 1945_

 _New York, New York_

Seeing her handwriting on the envelope, Guarnere crumpled up the letter before Toye could see. His friend was still busy unpacking from their recent transfer back to the States and didn't notice the pained sigh from him.


	10. Stop Looking at Me Like That

_January 1946_

 _New York, New York_

Kate sighed, looking down at her twisting fingers in her lap. "It's just as well," she murmured.

Toye cocked his head to the side, looking at her. Guarnere was dragged to a double session of therapy since he skipped out on yesterday's meeting with Nurse Vicky. He didn't know Kate was there. "What is, doll?"

She bit her lip. "How much he hates me. It's easier this way. I can go home tomorrow and not have to think about him anymore."

He rolled his eyes before taking her hand in his, stopping her fidgeting. "Ever think that's what he wants you to believe?"

Her eyes met his, confusion clouding them. He sighed, trying to figure out how the hell he became matchmaker. "Bill wants you to hate him. He wants you to forget that you two ever wrote to one another. He wants you to pretend neither of you ever started to feel anything for the other."

Her eyes widened. "But why?"

He bent towards her. "Now I'm going to tell you a secret. You ready?" Kate leaned in closer too, trying to pick up on his lower, raspy voice. She nodded. Taking a dramatic deep breath, he whispered, "Men have too much pride."

She blinked for a moment before rearing back and laughing loudly, her giggles echoed around the room and down the hall. Toye smiled then, happy to see the fire back after Guarnere repeatedly tried to stomp it out.

She let slip another giggle before squeezing his fingers back. "I hate to tell you, Joe, but that isn't a secret."

Toye smirked. "Could have fooled me since you haven't caught on yet."

She quieted at that and sighed. "That makes no sense."

He nodded smugly. "Before we got hit by that shell, I put down money that he was gonna come home and head to Boston first thing to ask you out. Hell, I had double or nothing he was gonna pop the question. No joke, George had a pool going."

Kate gaped at that. "But..."

Toye gave her a wink. "If you couldn't tell, we each lost a leg." Kate wasn't sure if she should laugh or stay silent. Thankfully, he continued before she had to make a decision. "Back in England, the nurses told us we would react one of two ways. We would either embrace our wound and be thankful to still be around, or we'd let the wound run our lives. If you couldn't tell, Bill is letting the lack of his leg get to him."

Kate chewed on her lip again. "But he's so angry, Joe. And not to anyone else, just me. I've seen him with you. With the nurses. Why me?"

Toye remained silent, allowing her to get there herself. Her cheeks turned pink. "But we hardly know one another."

"And you can honestly tell me you don't feel somethin' for him?"

She was silent again, cheeks now red. "I did," she said quietly. "I thought I was being stupid. How can I love someone I only just met?"

He snorted. "You are both stupid. You two know more about one another than most couples I know. Hell, you know more about him than my ma knows about my pa."

Kate smiled at that, nudging him with her elbow. "You know, Bill never wrote that you were so smart."

"Did he at least tell you how handsome I am?"

"Words couldn't have described it, darling."

* * *

Guarnere could hear their laughter from down the hall. Thankfully, Nurse Vicky allowed him to return to his room after a grueling session with the damn fake leg. His thigh throbbed, but he knew to keep his mouth shut. The nurse seemed to have received lessons from his mother or Sobel on how to shape him up.

Unlucky for him, he was finally settled into his bed when Toye came limping back with Kate. Upon seeing him, Guarnere could tell his friend tried to hide his wicked smile. "Damn, I forgot that there was extra jello in the kitchen today. You want some Kate? Bill?"

Kate started fidgeting again and started for the door. Toye stopped her with a hand. "No, I'll get it. It's good practice. Take a load off, doll." With a sigh, she sat down in the seat between the two beds. They watched him go, closing the door behind him.

The tension in the room stretched on. It felt like the silence bounced off the walls. Kate was starting to think she would chew a hole right through her lip. She coughed and cleared her throat. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

Guarnere only looked at her. He remained silent.

With a deep breath, she continued. "I won't come back unless you tell me otherwise, Bill."

Still he didn't say a word.

She nodded to herself and stood. The tears fell from her eyes this time, and she didn't stop them. She had no more energy to stop them. Walking silently up to him, she leaned down and brushed a kiss on his cheek, leaving wetness on his skin.

"Goodbye."

Guarnere froze at the feeling of her lips on his cheek, and he realized that he couldn't let her leave without knowing the sensation again. He tried to catch her eye as she straightened up, but she avoided his gaze. She didn't know if she could make it out of the room in time to stop the onslaught that threatened to break inside.

"Kate," he whispered. Somehow, she heard it and turned to him. His heart broke at the pain he saw in her eyes, knowing he caused it. He would do anything to replace it with the carefree happiness he saw in her photo.

He cleared his throat, unsure how to move forward. "I'm not the man I was when we wrote each other."

She remained silent, but with the tiniest movement, she nodded.

Taking the encouragement, he continued, running a hand through his hair. It was longer than he had ever had it before, knowing he wasn't taking care of himself. "I can't be him again. I've seen too much. I've done too much." He paused, watching as she walked forward until she sat on the side on the bed, right by his hip. His right leg should have been below it. "I'm not whole, sweetheart."

Kate digested this quietly. Guarnere looked down at his chest until snapping it up again when he felt her fingers thread through his. She gave him a soft smile. "Are you trying to tell me that Wild Bill is going down because he only has one leg? I don't believe it."

He couldn't help the grin that pricked at the corner of his mouth. "I may be down, sweetheart, but I ain't out."

Kate scooted closer to him. He saw this, and the confidence he felt a moment ago vanished once again. "I'm no good for you, Kate." Her eyes remained locked on his, and he saw the challenge there. Sick of the games he made between them, all he had left was honesty. "For Christ's sake, I only got one leg. How am I supposed to be any man for you with one goddamn leg?"

She cocked an eyebrow before leaning in close to him. When their lips were a few inches apart, she whispered, "Do you kiss with your leg, trooper?"

And in that moment, Guarnere knew he'd never meet anyone like her again, and he couldn't let her get away. Her own well being be damned, he closed the gap between them and kissed her gently, brushing his lips against the feather softness of hers. When he pulled back again, he matched her smile before taking her lips against his once more, deepening the kiss this time. His fingers dug into her hair; its softness took his breath away.

"So I guess you don't want that jello," interrupted Toye from the door. They broke apart with a start.

Kate giggled, her face crimson. She tried to hide it in Guarnere's chest. He couldn't help the grin on his face, even as he threw a pillow at Toye. "Get outta here, Joe! This ain't a free show."

With a snicker, Toye left them again and closed the door.

Guarnere turned back to Kate and cupped a hand on her cheek. He gave her a chaste peck on the lips before sighing. "Guess I'll have to start taking therapy seriously."

She raised an eyebrow once more, but she couldn't hide her smile. "Hell yes, you do. And if I need to team up with Nurse Vicky, I will."

He groaned dramatically, but inside his heart swelled. Unable to resist, he kissed her again before gazing into her eyes. He swore he would be able to drown in the color. "I will. I promise." He paused before grinning wickedly. "Gotta be able to sweep my woman off her feet one day."

Unlike other girls he had met, Kate didn't blush at his words or the insinuation behind them and his grin. Inside, she was dancing, but she wasn't about to let that show. Again, she leaned forward, grasping the fabric of his shirt tightly. She was delighted to see his eyes widen. Dropping her voice, she murmured, "I'm sure there is plenty more you can do in the meantime."

His smile started at one corner of his mouth before slowly sliding across, widening further and further. "Christ, I'm in trouble."

Kate laughed, shrieking as he pulled her into the bed next to him. With a happy sigh, they leaned into one another, a strong sense of peace finally falling over them.


	11. Epilogue

_February 2, 1947_

 _Avalon-by-the-Sea, New Jersey_

Kate stood on the deck overlooking the dark and rolling ocean. Moonlight reflected off the waves, so bright it was almost as if it was daytime. She heard a steady footstep behind her, and she smiled.

Guarnere wrapped his arms around her from behind before kissing the side of her neck. "What are ya doing out here, sweetheart? It's freezing."

Her smile deepened, breathing in the salt air. "I hardly noticed. I love the sea."

"And I love you."

Despite herself, she felt her heart thud before turning to face him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and curved her body towards his. With a smirk, she replied, "Is that so, Mr. Guarnere?"

He smirked back. "Damn straight, Mrs. Guarnere." He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her neck again. "I love ya so much, Kate, but I think it would be better if I showed ya instead."

Kate giggled as his lips grazed her skin up and down. Her fingers skimmed over the short hair at the nape of his neck and she sighed as he gathered her closer. "You had better, now that you've made an honest woman out of me."

Guarnere snorted before taking her by surprise and sweeping her into his arms. He started walking to the door while her giggles echoed along the quiet beach. "Honest woman? I ain't a miracle worker, doll."

She swatted at his head but he ducked and captured her lips with his instead. Laughing together, he kicked the door shut with his right foot, dismissing the rest of the world for the next few days as he and his new wife began their lives with one another.

* * *

 **Thank you to everyone that reviewed, followed and favorited! I hope you enjoyed the story of Kate and Bill.**


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